Day of the Assassins Read Online Free PDF

around a narrower splintered piece of cylindrical wood. Angus picked up the object. It was very much heavier than it looked.
    “Kind of a spike?” Angus said.
    “Here, look, it’s got an inscription…” Jack said.
    “What does it say?”
    “No idea – the metal has a sort of brown stain on it, too.”
    “Lots of history stuff in here – maybe it’s another antique?”
    “We should take it to Pendelshape. He’ll know.” Jack placed the object in his pocket.
    After a while, Angus said, “Maybe all this is to do with your father, don’t you think? You said he was some sort of scientist, didn’t you? And into history.”
    “Yes. But I don’t know why it’s all hidden away down here… And such a mess.” Then he added resentfully, “I don’t know why Mum hasn’t said anything about it before. I’ll go and get her.”
    But he didn’t have to. Having heard the commotion, Mrs Christie had arrived on the scene and was on the balcony looking down at them.
    “Looks like you’ve made a bit of a discovery.”
    “What is all this Mum?” Jack looked up at her expectantly.
    His mum shrugged. “It’s your father’s old workshop. When he left he took some things with him, but he wanted the rest left alone and… well, we closed it off.”
    “But…”
    There was a pause. “Sorry I didn’t say anything,” she sighed. “With your father’s work, it was best not to get involved.”

A Message
    D r Neil Pendelshape slurped from a mug of tea as he inspected the artefact. The mug had a slogan on it that read, ‘Historians do it after the event’. Nobody quite knew how old the head of the history department was – but judging by the crow’s feet around his deep-set eyes and the cropped grey hair, he had to be well into his fifties. He wore a tweed jacket, which struggled to cover a squat, portly frame. Pendelshape didn’t go in for the open neck fashion of the younger teachers. Jack had never seen him without a tie. He would march around the History department as if it was his personal property – always in control. Jack had never heard him raise his voice, let alone lose his temper, yet discipline was never a problem.
    Jack proudly presented the artefact to Pendelshape after school. He and Angus had spent quite a bit of time the previous evening exploring his father’s extraordinary library and workshop. To Jack’s dismay, his mum had continued to be coy about the discovery. She had said that she had been “meaning to clear it all out” for some time; and that she “had always meant to tell him that it was there”, but over time, and being so busy, had “kind of forgotten”. Jack did not understand this at all. But as he and Angus had inspected each of the artefacts and the mysterious wallcharts and all the strange equipment in turn, he’d begun to feel a sneaking sense of pride that all of this had once belonged to his own dad.
    Pendelshape listened to the boys’ revelations with quiet interest. But as the story unfolded, his brow furrowed. He nodded thoughtfully and looked at the lump of steel more closely, with a magnifying glass taken from his desk. He studied the stem of splintered wood first and then carefully worked his way up to thearrow-shaped tip. He was staring intently, his nose millimetres from the object. His face flushed momentarily and a small bead of sweat slowly formed on his forehead. They had expected Pendelshape to be excited. But instead he looked increasingly… worried.
    “So what is it, sir?” Angus asked.
    “It’s the tip of a lance.”
    Pendelshape thrust the magnifying glass over to Jack and pointed a finger at some lettering on one edge of the arrow-shaped lance head.
    “I can see the letters, sir. But I don’t know what they mean.”
    “Let me translate. It reads, ‘By God’s Grace – F.J.’”
    Jack stared blankly at Pendelshape. “F.J.?”
    “Franz Joseph.”
    Jack remembered the name but Angus shrugged, none the wiser.
    Pendelshape rolled his eyes.